Hell Yeah

born to marry him, forced to read fanfics about him

Apulian Red-figure skyphos depicting the myth of Actaeon, ca 400 - 350 BC

In which Will and Hannibal have a brief conversation about divine law and expectations.

“Are you familiar with the story of Actaeon, Will?”

A digression. Another digression. He’s used to these by now.

“I can tell you want to tell me whether I have or not.”

A tilt of the head, a not-quite smile. Hannibal is, in most things, the elegance of restraint.

“I do not mean to bore you with my recounting.”

“Tell me.”

“Actaeon is a great hunter. He stumbles upon the goddess Diana bathing in the woods.”

“And I assume a swift overreaction followed.”

“The punishment of gods can never be said to be an over, or indeed under, reaction. Divine law is always a matter of poetic justice.”

“What does she do to him?”

“His punishment for this transgression is to be transformed into a stag. Only to be torn apart by his own dogs, who no longer recognize him for who he was.”

He laughs. He can’t help it. This is on the nose, even for Hannibal.

Hannibal doesn’t even blink, watching him.

“Is that supposed to be some kind of warning?”

“Do you see a warning in it?”

“A hunter torn apart by his own dogs? Yeah, it’s hard not to.”

“You place yourself in the role of the transgressor, not the transgressed.” He notes mildly “Do you ever find yourself worrying that one day your fellow investigators might mistake you for quarry?”

Does he? Of course he does. Every day. Every time he steps onto another crime scene. Hannibal knows that.

“As long as there aren’t any skinny-dipping goddesses around, I think I should be fine.”

“Do you believe that Actaeon knew what he would find?” Hannibal asks, “Perhaps he did not expect to see her any more than you might.”

“It doesn’t matter, does it? He was a hunter. Whatever he expected, the end result was always going to be the same, whether he saw a goddess or not.”

“What result?” Hannibal tilts his head again, a clock-work mimic of interest.

“Spilled blood and baying hounds.”

Too anxious to make phone calls but not afraid to post fanfiction of gay cannibals on the fucking internet

hill of crosses lithuania

i feel like hannibal gets frequently annoyed at a lot of things. long lines? annoyed. traffic? annoyed. spam calls? annoyed. a crust on a plate that he just can’t seem to wash off? Furious. meanwhile Will is just kinda ok with everything. he could get his car totalled and lose his wallet in a mall on a saturday afternoon and b like Ok well at least i wasn’t stabbed shot and brainwashed again

been watchinf hannibal lately and i cant stop thinking about this

HEY that's MY emotional support morally ambiguous misunderstood full of trauma touch starved yearning for love drenched in blood responsible for numerous atrocities comfort character who is TRYING & u will TREAT them with RESPECT

him looking this pretty even before dying was unfair. I will avenge you, Joel miller.